Overture
As Big the cat stepped out of his simple rustic hut at the edge of the jungle surrounding the Mystic Ruins of the ancient Echidna tribe, he admired the beauty of the earth, the deep oranges and reds of the shining morning sun, the singing and warbling of the free birds with their gem-bright wings, the blooming brilliant wildflowers, the splendid blues and greens of his lily-pad covered fishing hole, and, in the distance, the enormous flying snake lazily evading a number of Station Square's finest pilots. Big strolled over to the bank, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, cut a fresh willow limb for a pole and gave it an experimental swing. Satisfied with it, Big ambled over to his usual fishing spot, where he kept a sack of feed, a ball of twine, and his cork. Yawning expansively he unraveled a length of twine, which he then fed through a small hole in the cork, fixing it in place by expertly packing around the line with blades of grass and a small twig. His massive fingers affixed a hook with grace that could inspire envy in a brain surgeon, and settled down on his favorite moss covered stone. With the fishing pole completed, Big cast his line and waited for breakfast. Eventually his eyes strayed back to the distant scene, where the battleship sized flying snake was playfully dancing around Station Square's planes, making them look about as graceful as toddlers on trampolines, the gun-metal gray of the jets looking poor and plain in comparison to the serpent's rich blue colored scales. "Blue." Thought Big to himself.
Because he felt a tug on his line, he didn't notice the now-bored snake vanish through a hole in the sky. He hoped that it was a bony fish- some people didn't like them, but he took pleasure in the different flavor.
****
"Hey Sonic, almost ready?" said Tails, who was cool.
"Just about T2. Lookin' good," replied Sonic, who was way past cooler.
It's important to mention that they were both cool, because at the moment neither of them felt very cool at all. As a matter of fact, Sonic couldn't remember the last time he'd felt as way past uncool as he did now- there had probably been a time, but none was coming to mind. The main reason for this was the clothes he was wearing.
For starters there was a coal-black linen jacket and trousers, a somewhat darker waistcoat, and a starch-white shirt. These garments were accentuated with expensive collars, gloves a fair-sight whiter and more expensive than he was used to, silk socks and chestnut colored shoes, faux-opal studs and cufflinks, with a silk neck tie for a piece de resistance. This last article of clothing had given him some trouble, which was currently adding to his acute feeling of uncoolness, due mostly to the fact that his robotized mother, Bernice, was tying it and poking him sharply as he shifted around uncomfortably. Sonic focused on the embarrassment of having a parent he barely even knew help him with putting on his clothes, on the itchiness of the cloth, on the uncomfortable pressure on his spines, on the fundamental uncoolness of evening dress, on anything except what he was going to have to do in a few minutes. As uncool as he felt now, he knew it would be nothing compared to how he would feel listening to… opera.
Things had started out innocently enough. There was a lull in the war against Robotnik, the possibility of a lasting peace with the Overlanders, and Knothole was being transformed from a place to hide into a place to live. The idea of a little entertainment project to take people's minds off their problems had seemed like a great idea. But somewhere along the way, things had taken what Sonic felt was a disastrous turn for the worse. A play was one thing… but opera? Opera was, like, the uncoolest thing in the world. Well, maybe second uncoolest, if you counted Robotnik- but it was a close second.
He'd never been able to find out who had suggested the opera in the first place. Both of the De'Coolettes denied involvement, as did Dulcie, Rotor, and the rest of the old gang. If he didn't know it was impossible, he'd have suspected St. John, King Max… or even Robotnik himself. It was certainly nasty enough for ol' blubberbutt.
Sonic fidgeted, making Bernie poke him into stillness again. The darn tie was taking forever to get right, what with his restless movements. The Opera couldn't come soon enough… the sooner it started the sooner he could forget the whole thing.
****
Antoine was spectacularly anxious. He had long been a high-strung individual, but tonight he had reached new and terrifying levels of nerviness. He was, at once, Impresario, director of music, and chorus master. Which meant that when things went wrong (and he knew they would) all the blame would be laid at his feet. Mopping his brow, Antoine paced to and fro on front of the stage, glaring at the one of the many posters advertising the "Special Performance of the Knotthole production of La Triviata Inseguimento", as if it was personally responsible for his problems. And he certainly had problems- the, hah, "Opera House" itself for one thing. Impermanence had been a major concern with its construction, so the whole thing had been slapped together… or, rather, was still being slapped together. About as large as a good-sized barn (anything larger and they wouldn't have been able to obscure it with the tree-line, a definite no-no since that would risk detection by Robotnik) but nowhere near as well made, the temporary Opera House was an attempt to fit everything people remembered about Mobotropolis' Opera House into a building an eight the size. "Backstage" was actually just a space outside and behind the building, concealed from prying eyes with a great patchwork tent of sacking. Everyone provided most of their own costumes; some of the sets were still wet, the stage looked like it had been made out of five and a half old doors (it had), and the lighting…
Antoine looked up to where Bunnie, flying under the power of her boot jets, was still installing the last of the electric lights in the ceiling. "Sacre bleu…" he murmured under his breath before shouting at her "in twenty min-otes it iz in your costume I am needing you to be in, not in ze rafters, ma cheri!" The put-upon canid pressed his hand against his forehead, and made his way past the tiny orchestra pit and onto the stage. Pushing aside the patchwork curtain, he tried to spot Rotor in the teaming crowds waiting in the wings. This was no easy task, there were stagehands and scene-shifters arguing over the placement of props, choir members testing their "Do-Re-Mi"s, panicking singers (Mina Mongoose among them) trying to memorize the last of their music, orchestra members trying to push through on their way to the pit, Dr. Quack looking everywhere for his conductor's baton, and five Mobians doing their best to get the hang of sharing their pantomime "giant snake" costume. Just before he gave up in despair, Antoine spotted his leading man stage left, making sure the stage manager understood the special effects console. Considering that the "special effects console" was just the switches for the five stage lights, the manager's continued confusion was starting to put a little strain on Rotor's usual good mood. Antoine had thought he couldn't possibly get more nervous, but the sight of Rotor not yet in costume, twenty minutes before curtain, was enough to do it.
"No, see, that one's the forward light," explained Rotor slowly, "You can tell because it's the one labeled 'forward light'. Well I am sorry, but I think the handwriting is quite clear…"
Antoine grabbed Rotor by the arm and dragged the shocked walrus away from the machine, pushing him toward the costume rack and proclaiming "Zee show can be in zee darkness, but zee Tenor must be in eez coztume!"
Anxiously rubbing his hands together, Antoine risked a peek out the curtain. Mercifully, Bunnie had finished her work (and had hopefully gone to change), and most of the orchestra was seated in the pit and tuning up. Unfortunately, someone had started letting people in, and quite a few seats were already filled. The small section reserved for the Royals was still empty, thank the stars, but time was rapidly running out. Oh, what had he been thinking of when he volunteered for all this? What he wouldn't give just to be in the audience tonight.
******
What I wouldn't give to be anywhere else tonight, thought Sonic the Hedgehog. "Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry, new shoes. Sorry Mrs. Doe!"
The fastest thing alive had no problem when it came to dodging energy blasters, missiles, and robotic war machines, but he obviously stank at missing people's feet while reaching his seat. Obviously it wasn't an inherited trait, Uncle Chuck and his parents had managed to get past without bothering a soul, but Sonic and Tails left a trail of irritated opera-goers in their wake. Settling into an uncomfortable chair between Tails and Uncle Chuck, Sonic tried to make the best of a bad situation. From some hidden recess in his clothes he produced a small box of chocolates. He'd almost hugged Antoine the other day after finding out that eating a small box of chocolates –with no noisy wrappers- was acceptable at an Opera. Unfortunately Antoine had been quite adamant on the "no chili dogs" policy. Politely he offered a sweet to Tails before popping one into his own mouth. He turned his head as a murmur throughout the crowd indicated that the royals had arrived, fashionably late and flanked by guards. King Max didn't appear to be any more dressed up than usual, although Queen Alicia appeared to be wearing a lot more jewelry than Sonic had ever seen on her before. As for Sally…
Sonic whistled softly. He'd expected her to look really good in evening dress. She didn't. In fact, it looked like she was even more uncomfortable than he was. She kept tugging self-consciously on her ornate dress, and the fancy jewelry looked out of place on her. The Princess had something of a regal bearing, but at the same time she looked like she'd rather have that regal bearing somewhere where all eyes weren't on her, looking to see her regal bearing. Sonic almost waved, but thought better after getting a look at King Max's face as his majesty's wheelchair was pushed up the ramp to the platform specially constructed to give the Royals the best view.
As if on cue, from the orchestra pit came the first faint stirrings of music. "This is the overture," whispered Uncle Chuck to Sonic and Tails, "kind of like a sample of the music they're going to play during the Opera." Sonic made a face… he had to sit through stuff before the Opera too?
The lights dimmed except over the stage. The curtain slowly drew back. Tails excitedly pulled on Sonic's sleeve, pointing at the stage and whispering, "Look, it's Bunnie and Rotor!"
For a moment Sonic forgot where he was and smiled. Bunnie was in the front row center of the choir, who were all wearing long blue robes and an odd piece of jewelry on a gold necklace. Rotor was dressed up a lot like Rob O'The Hedge, and standing in the center of the stage.
Looking from Tails to Sally to his own family and finally to Bunnie and Rotor again, Sonic decided to do his best to enjoy himself, and ignore how much being here was damaging his way past cool image. As he made that decision, sparks began to fly from his parents and Uncle Chuck, from the jewelry people were wearing, from the lights in the rafters, from the nails holding everything together, and from every other piece of metal in the entire building. He had the chance to yelp as a spark hit him, but not to yell any of the questions popping into his head, because at that moment a giant ball of electricity appeared over the stage. People began to scream, which made a lot of sense, all things considered.